


You Give Me

by norgbelulah



Series: Set Fire to This House [7]
Category: Justified
Genre: Domestic, Fever, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd and Raylan take care of each other through a really terrible bout of some kind of goddamn illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Give Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [someotherstorm (rumbrave)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumbrave/gifts).



Boyd and Raylan laid in bed ‘til way past noon on Saturday.

Boyd didn’t usually sleep in on the weekends, but he’d had some kind of chest thing going on for the past two days and he felt like he deserved the rest. He thought he’d hidden it fairly successfully from Raylan, until he’d heard him coughing on his way up the stairs the previous night.

“Did your school germs get me sick, darlin’?” Raylan had called from the door, where he was hanging his hat.

“It’s probably just the weather changin’,” Boyd called back from the tiny kitchen, where he was heating them up some canned soup. 

Raylan smiled at him wryly as he came in, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. “Don’t give me that. I heard you hacking up a lung just this morning.”

“Well, I think it’s clearing up so, don’t worry about it. Maybe just a twenty-four hour thing, like you had last fall.”

Raylan made a face like he hoped so that was quickly subsumed by a cough he directed into his forearm.

They decided not to drive to Harlan that night, as they had planned earlier in the week. They did each have a bourbon, to “clear things up,” and crawled to bed very early.

Boyd woke up the next morning feeling hot and uncomfortable, but not entirely out of sorts, just lethargic and thirsty. He didn’t get up for water though, he rolled over and thought about how he’d seen Billy Warden, one of the young kids in his carpentry class, coughing on Tuesday. He’d been absent from their Thursday class.

“Shit,” he muttered into his pillow and slept until Raylan’s phone began to ring.

He had to nudge Raylan twice until he reached to the nightstand to answer the damn thing, growling, “Givens,” into the receiver and then staying silent long enough for Boyd to drift back into half a doze.

He startled at Raylan’s rough hand on his shoulder, shaking him, and twisted around to look up at him. “Wha?” he mumbled vaguely.

Raylan frowned at him, pain and worry in his expression. “You look like shit,” he said. “I have a bitch of a headache and Art says he needs me in. Parole hearing went south in Beattyville this morning, guy’s on the run.”

“You’re goin’?” he asked, feeling like he barely understood what it was Raylan had said.

“I have to.” Raylan slid his hand across Boyd’s brow, and held there for a second. “You’re burnin’ up, Boyd. We got any Tylenol or ibuprofen or somethin’?”

Boyd didn’t really care enough to think hard about it. “I don’t fucking know,” he said and turned away again. He heard Raylan swearing from somewhere that seemed pretty far away and smiled as he drifted off again.

He had a strange dream about being on a shitty beach, one of those over-crowded, spring break ones on the Atlantic in Florida, and having some kind of terrible sunburn. Raylan was there and was touching his face a lot, trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t really make it out over the sound of the waves and shitty college rock.

He was woken again by his own phone ringing, loud, and right next to his ear. Which was funny, because he usually kept the thing on vibrate so he didn’t have to worry about it in class. His head was pounding and he let out a weird, strangled groan when he answered.

“Oh good,” Raylan’s voice came tired over the line. “You picked up.”

“Yeah,” Boyd said, feeling confused.

“I called you like three other times, darlin’. I couldn’t get no sense out of you before I left and Art was about banging down the door to get us on the road,” Raylan explained, somewhat patiently. “There’s a glass of water and a travel packet of Advil on your nightstand. You need to take that shit, okay?”

Boyd looked over and saw that Raylan was indeed telling the truth. “Where’d you get the pills?” he asked.

“Bar’s first aid kit. I told Lindsey we’d replace it.”

Boyd tried to smile, but it faded quickly as he felt all the tension in his head and jaw tighten the longer he was awake. “Ugh,” he whined across the line, then determined to shut that shit down fast. “How’s the... thing? When you gonna be back, baby?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Raylan sighed. “We’re drivin’ around Lee County lookin’ for this asshole, but the leads are shit and Art’s at the wheel.”

Boyd really did smile when he heard the tone of Art’s affronted reply. 

“How you feelin’?” Boyd asked.

“Fine,” Raylan bit out and Boyd realized he must not have said anything about how they probably have the same thing.

“You’re an idiot, Raylan,” he said fondly.

“Yeah, we’ll same to you if you don’t sit up and take those pills. Try and eat something too, okay?”

Boyd nodded, then said, “Okay,” remembering belatedly that motion didn’t carry over the phone. “Shit, baby,” he said, “I am not myself today.”

“You know what you said to me, when I tried to wake you?”

“Good lord, what?” Boyd only barely remembered the dream he’d had.

“You said, ‘get ‘em to turn off that fucking Dave Matthews bullshit.’ Then you said if you had to hear ‘Crash into Me’ one more time you were gonna garrote somebody with their swimsuit,” Raylan said, like he thought it was hilarious, and Boyd couldn’t believe he’d uttered those words within Art’s hearing.

“It seems that I was having a very strange dream, Raylan,” Boyd said, at a loss for how else to respond.

“Go back to bed, darlin’,” Raylan told him, so Boyd did. After he took the pills and drank all the water.

He woke to the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it woke him nonetheless. He only roused himself though when a plastic bag full of cold medicine flew past his head and onto the pillow next to him. He scowled at Raylan. “Was that necessary?”

Raylan looked terrible. His hat was hanging in his hand like there was a stone weight in it and he was rubbing at tired eyes when he replied, “I plead the fifth,” and just kind of tipped over onto the mattress. “Fuck,” he sighed.

“You find the guy?”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

Boyd decided not to ask any more questions if Raylan was going to be that grumpy. He frowned and sat up, pulling the drug store bag into his lap. There were like four or five different kinds of cold medicine in it, all with the word fever in the symptom list, and one quickly melting ice cream bar.

Boyd handed the last to Raylan without a word and read each of the boxes as he unwrapped and consumed the novelty dessert.

“You feelin’ better now?” Boyd asked when he’d finished.

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Boyd smiled. “You do know most of this shit is all exactly the same, don’t you?” he asked motioning at the boxes strewn across the bed.

Raylan shrugged. “I’ll tell you, darlin’, I could not make a fucking decision. I was standing there for like ten minutes, staring at all these colorful boxes, and they all looked the same up close anyway, so I just grabbed a few. My head was pounding.”

Boyd ran an, admittedly warm, hand over Raylan’s brow as he replied, “You grabbed five. You must have spent like forty dollars at least on all this, baby.” Raylan did feel a little hot, he thought, and wasn’t surprised. He was looking pale and there were shadows under his eyes and tense lines through his mouth and jaw, like he was trying to mask some pain.

Raylan groaned and flipped over on the bed, drawing his arms up and under his head, sliding fingers through his hair. “I think that ice cream put me over fifty. But screw it, Boyd, we’ll just have some actual medicine for next time some asshole kid in your roofing class gets us sick.”

“It was carpentry,” Boyd corrected, feeling a little bit sensitive about it.

“Ugh,” Raylan groaned. “Whatever.” He rolled around a bit then, apparently trying to get comfortable. “Art gave me tomorrow off.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, Raylan.”

“Well if something stupid comes up, he tol’ me he’d call Rachel or Tim.”

Boyd smirked. “That was very big of him.”

“I thought so,” Raylan mumbled through a sigh and Boyd realized he was about to drift off.

“Baby, why don’t you get out of your clothes ‘fore you fall asleep? You’re just gonna wake up even more hot and uncomfortable. And, maybe you wanna take some of this medicine you bought for us?” Boyd poked him a few times, then went in to shake him at his shoulder.

This only served to provoke a string of unintelligible profanity directed towards Raylan’s pillow, leaving Boyd to wonder why on earth he was in a relationship with a man who seemed to be hell bent on being a responsible adult only about half the time, packing himself a lunch he never remembered to take with him, buying them medicine he couldn’t be bothered to actually ingest.

Boyd shook his head and opened one of the boxes, some kind of head and congestion variety of Tylenol. He took the prescribed dose, and pulled out one for Raylan too, setting it on the nightstand next to his head. His boy was out cold, snoring softly, and twisting every once in awhile in the sheets. Boyd just pulled off his boots, which he hardly noticed, and crawled back into the bed next to him.

Before he fell asleep again, he thought maybe the next time he woke, he’d try and get some food together for them. He thought he remembered that it was bad to take some kinds of medicine on an empty stomach. He couldn’t really be bothered to remedy the situation at that point, however, because Raylan had already pulled him close and was murmuring something about the Dairy Queen.

“Okay, baby,” Boyd murmured back, smoothing the hair back from his fevered brow. “We’ll go soon.”

Boyd was awoken again by Raylan’s warm, heavy breath across his neck. Boyd was the little spoon to Raylan’s big and his boy had somehow lost his clothes finally since Boyd had fallen asleep. He was hard against Boyd’s back, sticky with sweat, and Boyd groaned, “Come on, Raylan. Are you serious?”

“Mmm,” Raylan breathed, reaching a too warm hand under his boxers and around to Boyd’s cock. “Feels serious.”

It felt good, better than he’d thought it would. Boyd grew stiff, then hard under Raylan’s slow and steady attentions. So he asked, with labored breath, “How you wanna go?”

“Jus’ like this,” Raylan answered, slurring like he was drunk. Boyd could feel his sleepy grin against the small hairs at the back of his neck, pressed into skin moist with heat and sweat.

Boyd reached his hand back and Raylan’s free hand guided him. They increased their pace together, with practiced synchronicity, but Raylan was already quite aroused--he must have had some kind of wet fever dream--and he began to buck his hips into Boyd’s backside far too soon. His leg, warm and heavy, came up across Boyd’s thigh and he groaned loudly, obviously feeling it come on hard.

“Baby, wait,” Boyd told him through his teeth, trying to push at Raylan’s slowing hand, even as he kept the pace on Raylan’s cock. “Wait.”

But Raylan wasn’t listening, he had his face pressed hard into Boyd’s neck, inching around to his shoulder, the crook of his neck, and he was muttering a string of endearments so unlike him, Boyd’s breath caught and he couldn’t offer any more protests. “Boyd,” he moaned, “Fuck, Boyd, you’re so good, so--Jesus Christ--beautiful, darlin’, nothin’ but--ah, fuck, I love you--love you so much--”

“Shit,” Boyd grunted, feeling him come all over Boyd’s hand and back, stilling hard and rigid, then relaxing almost instantaneously. “Shit, shit, no, baby, please,” Boyd moaned. “Raylan,” he said, grabbing at Raylan’s now completely slack hand draped over his cock, “come on, baby, don’t do this to me.”

Raylan only huffed sleepily into his shoulder, his mouth half open, teeth flat against Boyd’s skin and pulled him into a wet, flaccid embrace, murmuring about how sexy he was.

“Jesus Christ,” Boyd cursed, head falling forward in defeat. He was hard and hurting, but found he couldn’t really be pissed at Raylan. Particularly considering his state of mind and especially after all that love, even if he couldn’t get Boyd off.

Raylan was snoring again, so Boyd felt all right about pulling away from him fairly unceremoniously. He stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, not caring too much for waiting for the water to heat up. He was still overwarm and his head and his cock were aching like a sore tooth, blood pounding through both much too fast for comfort.

He thought, a bit hazily, he might get some relief if he just came, so he took himself in hand and thought of Raylan loving him so much he couldn’t fucking wait. He thought of Raylan loving him so much he couldn’t make sense of it anymore and he came with his other hand braced up against the shower and the spray beating hard and cold against his back.

He saw stars a moment later and had to sit down with his head between his knees on the side of the tub. He let the come rinse off his hands before he braced them against his still pounding forehead. 

He decided Raylan owed him fucking huge for this.

Boyd brought a damp, cool washcloth out of the bathroom with him and wiped Raylan down, rousing him a bit in the process. Raylan looked at him blearily as Boyd set the cloth aside, reaching up to touch his face then slide his hand down his arm in some semblance of a caress. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey, yourself,” Boyd said, unable to keep some stiffness from his tone.

Raylan frowned and tilted his head. “Did we,” he hesitated, “fuck or somethin’? I had this weird--oh, shit.” He looked up with guilt writ large across his face, clearly remembering.

Boyd almost laughed. “Yeah, baby. You owe me some head as soon as you’re able, okay?”

Raylan groaned, and almost rolled over and away, but Boyd caught him at his shoulder, preventing him from moving. “Yeah, of course,” Raylan said earnestly. “Darlin’, I’m--”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Raylan.” He climbed up onto the bed and reached over his boy to the nightstand, taking the water and pills into his hand. “Now, if you don’t take this shit, I really am gonna be pissed at you.”

Raylan took it without a word, looking still more penitent, and curled back up on the bed like Boyd wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Boyd, having taken another dose of his own, was not going to stand for that and curled up right next to him. He laid his head across Raylan’s shoulder and said, “Now don’t pout, baby. You didn’t offend my delicate sensibilities.”

Raylan laid his head in his hands. “I’m such an asshole.”

Boyd laughed, huffing across Raylan’s bare skin, still much too warm. “We both knew that goin’ in, Raylan.”

“First step to recovery, huh?” Raylan joked. His head bowed even more and his muscles relaxed into Boyd’s embrace. 

Boyd too felt himself getting drowsier by the second. He started a moment later, realizing he’d almost been sucked right under. “Jesus,” he murmured. “These meds have horse tranquilizers in them, for God’s sake?”

Raylan twisted in Boyd’s arms, eyes closed already, dreamy smile on his face. “I wan’ hot fudge on it, Boyd,” he mumbled, clearly down for the count.

“Okay, whatever you want, baby,” he replied and let himself go.

**Author's Note:**

> More fever fic for Storm, crazy long AU style. This fic and the one before in the series are gifts for two very lovely ladies and really just filler fic set in this 'verse. More crazy long AU fic will be coming your way in 2013. Don't worry. 
> 
> Thanks to thornfield_girl, as usual for beta services.


End file.
